Horcruxes
by the shattered star
Summary: A seven-shot of each of the Horcruxes being destroyed; from the point of view of the destroyer. Enjoy!
1. Harry

**A/N Heyy all! Yes, this piece is going to be written in chronological order. Yes, I have started the major piece I shall be working on; 'tis going to be of the Artemis Fowl fandom, for those of you interested. So, this piece shall be a seven-shot… Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: It's just the thoughts that belong to me, as well as some of the characterizations. As for the direct quotes: there come from **_**Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, **_**pages 320-322. It's only the dialogue that I copied word for word. Without further ado, enjoy!**

Harry dodged the basilisk's first lunge, throwing himself on the floor. He breathed a quick sigh of relief; safe for the moment. That was his mistake. He allowed himself to relax.

Pain. Sheer, white, blinding pain enveloped him like a blanket. Harry squinted his eyes shut and thrust up with the sword of Godric Gryffindor, pushing as hard as he could. Harry felt the basilisk twitch as it fell to the floor. He didn't look at his arm in fear. He wasn't even sure if his arm was part of him anymore; it felt like someone had cut it off, but the phantom arm still hurt.

The room spun; Harry was fighting to keep conscious. He couldn't. There was no way he could survive a basilisk bite. _But I must try, _he thought. He gripped the fang with his good hand and gave it a good wrench, pulling it free of his arm. His arm hurt so much that he couldn't even feel the pain he should've felt from removing the fang.

Harry's vision was fading; everything was turning blurry. _I'm not going to survive, _he thought sadly. But he had done it. He had killed the basilisk; no one else would be killed by it or be haunted by it. There was only one thing Harry wanted to do before he died.

"Fawkes," he said thickly, "you were fantastic, Fawkes…" The enormous bird laid its majestic head on his arm. Harry wanted to hold her close, but he couldn't, his good arm starting to hurt as well as the poison spread throughout his body.

"You're dead, Harry Potter. Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying," Tom Riddle sneered. Harry couldn't help but look to see if, indeed, the bird was crying. He watched milky white tears fall from Fawkes's eyes. He remembered something, a thought, but it wasn't coherent.

"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take you time. I'm in no hurry," Riddle drawled. Harry didn't want to listen to this. He just wanted to sleep, he just wanted to get out of this place. _I couldn't even save Ginny, _he thought sadly. He couldn't imagine how Ron would feel about that.

"So ends the famous Harry Potter. Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry… She brought you twelve years of borrowed time… but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must…"

_If this is dying, _Harry thought, completely ignoring Riddle's empty words, _it's not so bad. _Harry could feel the life slipping from him. Or was that the pain? Then something changed; he could see clearer, he could think without struggling… What was happening here?

"Get away bird. Get away from him— I said, _get away—_" Riddle said. Harry was confused at this; what had Fawkes done? Riddle sent up a loud noise, scaring Fawkes away from Harry. She flew off in a whirl of feathers. "Phoenix tears… Of course… healing powers… I forgot…" Riddle said, an awed look on his face. It quickly vanished as he caught sight of Harry again. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter… you and me…" Riddle raised the wand in his hand, about to perform a curse.

Just as he was about to emit his last breathe, Harry saw Fawkes flying above him. She dropped something in his lap… _The diary_, Harry thought. Suddenly it made sense to him. Harry knew what he had to do. He grasped hold of the basilisk fang and looked at Riddle for a moment. Riddle made a move towards him, knowing what he was about to do. There was no hesitation as Harry stabbed the diary with the fang. He wrenched and twisted the fang, making sure that the diary would be completely destroyed. The result of this surprised him. There was a long, shrill scream and ink poured over his hands, but Harry did not dare let go. He watched Riddle scream, and, finally, he disappeared. Not so much disappeared as blew up. Harry kept his hold on the fang for a moment. He finally let it go, not realizing how tightly he'd been grasping it.

He'd gone. Tom Riddle was gone, never to haunt anyone again. Harry felt a strange sense of relief after destroying the diary; something had been lifted from his shoulders, though he wasn't sure what it was. He looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes in triumph. He grabbed the diary in one hand, the sword in the other and got up.

_I'll be alright; so will Ginny, _he thought. And for the first time that night, he felt safe.

**A/N Thoughts? Comments? Critiques? Leave them in a review, **_**s'il vous plait!**_** Merci. Bisous ~ the shattered star **


	2. Dumbledore

**A/N And with this Monday comes another installment of **_**Horcruxes. **_**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: The plot belongs to JK Rowling, the thoughts to me.**

Dumbledore's blackened hand always drew his eyes to it, a constant reminder of what he had done. Or rather, what he had tried to do.

_Dumbledore entered the decrepit house that looked more like a shack. He looked around briskly, and upon realizing that no one was there, he started rifling through the debris on the ground. It took him at least a quarter of an hour to find it, but in the end he did._

_This was it. With this ring he could fix everything he had ever destroyed. He could forget about that day, so long ago, he could stop doubting, he could start breathing easily. Dumbledore reached out for the ring. He picked it up and put it on the palm of his hand. The temptation was so strong; he had not prepared himself for this. He thought it was just because of his regret. He should have known better. Dumbledore slipped the ring on to his hand, thinking of his dearest Ariana as he did so, hoping to bring her back._

_But then, to his shock and utter disbelief, the ring seemed to glue itself to his finger; he could not get it off. There was something that resembled an explosion. Everything went black._

Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes at the thought. His sister was so innocent, so sweet… She didn't deserve to die. And all because of his stupid, stupid infatuation with someone so decidedly lower than him.

Dumbledore sat in silence, inspecting his blackened hand. He remembered the night he got it, he remembered the pain, but he also remembered not thinking much of it. Thinking that if he died, he would die and there was nothing that could be done for it. _Strange, _he mused, _I never thought myself to be suicidal_. Perhaps not suicidal, more like wise. When one thought about it logically, if he were to die in that situation, there was truly nothing he could do about it. It was only luck that he had stayed alive as long as he had. There were times when Dumbledore felt as if he was living on borrowed time. There were times he felt too old for his body. There were times when he felt remorse. Ever since that day, he had never been the same. The Dumbledore of so many years ago was lost now to the world.

The ring glinted on a table next to Dumbledore's desk. He looked at it and his lips quirked. Such a funny little thing. Giving so much hope to some, and dread for others. He had cursed it in the past, thinking it to be a false hope. But he now knew that as soon as the Horcrux was destroyed, the stone would be usable again. _But would I truly use it? _Dumbledore wondered. He found that he wouldn't. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't see his sister again, couldn't face her. He was a coward. And that was that.

Dumbledore sighed, adjusting his glasses on his face. It had changed him, that incident. He was no longer carefree; he felt constantly concerned about everything. Tom was back; he had been for two years, and still, there were at least six horcruxes still waiting to be destroyed. And yet there were still those small things that made everyday alright. A first year finding the wonders of magic, a threstral flying in the cool spring breeze. Something kept him going, something kept him from going mad.

Dumbledore eyed Gryffindor's sword, admiring the craftsmanship that must have gone in to creating it._ Goblins, _he thought, shaking his head. According to them, the sword was never truly any humans'. No matter; he didn't know why he was concerned with that. The sword was here now and no one was trying to take it away.

Dumbledore remembered a certain second-year receiving the sword. He admired Harry's courage, though he wished Harry could be less impulsive. He closed his eyes, hoping that after he died, Harry would be able to complete the dire task at hand. Dumbledore remembered Harry's face after defeated the basilisk, his face covered with blood and slime, yet still triumphant and satisfied.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. The sword was imprinted with basilisk blood; it was poison. Even to a Horcrux. Dumbledore rose from his chair and approached the cabinet holding the sword. He opened it slowly and took the great sword in his hands, gripping tightly. It was time for all the ghosts to leave. Time for temptation to be fought.

"Too long have you haunted me," Dumbledore growled at the ring. "No more!" Dumbledore was shaking at this point. He didn't know what had come over him. Something had changed, something he didn't realize. _I'm sorry, _he thought, though of whom he was thinking of he did not know. The sword was still in his hands. He brought it up until it was perpendicular to the floor.

Then it snapped. In a fit of rage, Dumbledore threw the sword at the ring, breaking it in half. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. It was over. The temptation to try on the ring had ended, and now there was truly nothing he could do for the dead. They could rest in peace. And he could finally breathe easily.

He opened his eyes slowly. He looked at the ring to find that the stone was still there, intact and unmarked. But no, on closer inspection, the black stone had a crack down the middle; a crack on the line representing the eldar wand. Of course it wouldn't have been destroyed; it wasn't part of the Horcrux. But still, Dumbledore had hoped that it would also be destroyed, killing all his temptations. He wondered briefly if Tom knew that the stone he had procured was, in fact, one of the deathly hallows. He doubted it, for if Tom had known, he surely would have taken it for himself.

Dumbledore smiled, knowing that now there was one less Horcrux in the world. Though the stone remained, at least some evil had been vanquished tonight. Of course not. Why would his needs ever be satisfied? There were other things, more important things that needed to be looked after besides an old man's guilt.

He thought about telling Harry about the sword and how he had destroyed the ring, but thought better of it. _He'll find out, in time, _Dumbledore thought contentedly.

**A/N Enjoyable? Really, I'm curious; drop a review! Merci. Bisous ~ the shattered star**


	3. Ron

**A/N Sorry for the long delay! Ron was difficult to write; let me know if I pulled him off in a review, please!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Plot belongs to JKR, the thoughts to me. Direct quotes come from **_**Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, **_**pages 374-378.**

Ron could not believe what he was hearing. It was all too much; he had just returned, Harry had almost _drowned_, and now Harry wanted to destroy the Horcrux.

"No! No, don't open it! I'm serious!" Ron protested. He didn't need this right now. All he wanted to do was find a comfortable spot and curl up for the night. And, alright, why not admit it, he wanted to see Hermione too.

"Why not?" Harry demanded. "Let's get rid of the damn thing, it's been months—" Harry started.

"I can't, Harry, I'm serious— you do it—"

"But why?" Ron didn't want to answer this question. _Because I'm weak, because I'm not like you, Harry! _he thought miserably.

"Because that thing's bad for me!" Ron exclaimed, moving away from it. "I can't handle it! I'm not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff— stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse, I can't explain it, and then I'd take it off again and I'd get my head on straight again, and then I'd have to put the effing thing back on— I can't do it, Harry!" Ron's words came out hurriedly, almost without his control. But now that he thought about it, it was all true; the thing was different for him; somehow, he couldn't control himself as well as Hermione and Harry could. And Hermione… _No, I'll think about that only when I have too… _he thought. No, he didn't want to know what Hermione thought of him now. And the worst part was that he wouldn't blame her for anything. He was being a prick before he left, and she had absolutely no obligations towards him now. Ron hadn't noticed that he'd backed away whilst in the midst of all his thoughts.

"You can do it, you can! You've just got the sword, I know it's supposed to be you who uses it. Please, just get rid of it, Ron." _It's _supposed _to be me. Well damn fate! _Ron thought furiously. But his thoughts were hollow; he knew he had to do it; there was no point arguing.

"Tell me when," Ron said, giving in.

"On three," Harry said. "One… Two… Three," and here Harry snarled something that Ron assumed was _"open" _in Parseltongue. The locket opened slowly, and it took all of Ron's efforts not to back away. "Stab," said Harry.

Ron stared at the locket. A voice was issuing from it that he could not ignore. _"I have seen your heart, and it is mine." _it said. A small part of Ron wanted to stab the locket and get it all over with, but the temptation to listen was so much stronger. _"I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible. Least loved, always, by a mother who craved a mother, least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend… Second best, always, eternally overshadowed…" _Ron could no longer hide from the truth. He knew, now, that he had only been deluding himself when he thought she loved him back; he was never good enough for her! She would always prefer Harry! And why shouldn't she, when he was good at nothing, and Harry was good at everything.

Ron stared at the locket and yelled in shock when he saw what was emerging from it. Two figures, serpentine and twisting around each other. It was a ghostly imitation of Hermione and Harry. Ron's eyes widened in surprise.

"_Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence… We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption," _started the ghost Harry.

"_Presumption! Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?" _ the ghost Hermione finished. Ron stumbled back, feeling as thought something had hit him hard in the stomach. Did she really think that? Of course she did, why would the locket lie?!

"_Your mother confessed," _continued ghost Harry, _"that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange…"_

"_Who would prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him," _ghost Hermione crooned, kissing Harry. Ron's face filled with fury as he thought of what might have transpired in the time he was gone. He could not believe it; how could his best friend betray him like this?! His anger seemed to tear a rent in the shield that was keeping him from hearing Harry's voice. Ron heard Harry shout "do it, Ron!" Everything snapped. Harry turned towards Harry, his eyes full of rage. As soon as he saw Harry's face, a bit of rational thought came back to him. _Destroy the locket! _it commanded him. Ron stepped forwards with the sword and plunged into the heart of the locket, killing the Horcrux and the ghosts with one stab.

Ron stepped back. He could tell that his eyes were wet, but he didn't care. And though he knew he should be upset and sad, he only felt relief. It was gone. The locket had been vanquished, and more importantly, it had been vanquished by him. Ron Weasley had killed a part of Voldemort. But Ron's relief vanished when he saw Harry approaching him. Harry didn't wait for an invitation.

"After you left, she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn't want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone…" Harry paused. "She's like my sister. I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me. It's always been like that. I thought you knew." Ron hung his head. He should have known, but his jealousy got in the way. _She cried for me? _Ron thought, incredulously.

Ron would understand if Harry wanted to leave him. He couldn't say he didn't deserve it. He watched Harry walk away. But just as all hope seemed to have faded, Harry came back to Ron.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I left. I knew I was a— a—" Ron was going to continue, but when he saw Harry's wry smile, he knew he didn't need to.

"You've sort of made up for it tonight. Getting the sword. Finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life," Harry responded.

"That makes me sound a lot cooler than I was," Ron mumbled self-consciously

"Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was, I've been trying to tell you that for years," Harry said.

Simultaneously, the two boys walked forwards and hugged tightly, both trying to comfort each other, both trying to somehow make it alright.

It was then that Ron knew that all would be forgiven in time. He knew that all would go back to normal eventually. In the meantime, Ron supposed he would have to take comfort in knowing that perhaps he still had a chance with Hermione. Perhaps she didn't hate him after all.

**A/N Any good? Leave a review, **_**s'il vous plaît!**_** Danke. Bisous ~ the shattered star**__


	4. Hermione

**A/N Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Enjoy this next installment.**

**Disclaimer: Plot is JKR's, thoughts are mine.**

The silence in the room was unbearable. Hermione couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make the whole situation even more awkward. This was the first time she and Ron had been absent of Harry's presence since Ron had returned. For lack of anything else to say, she turned to him.

"Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still haven't gotten rid of the cup!" Hermione whispered. And then, very unexpectedly, Ron jumped up. "What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Er, alright you lot, me and Hermione'll be back in a few minutes; we have a rather urgent task to complete," Ron said in a flush. No one in the Room of Requirement showed any signs of restraint. "C'mon, Hermione," Ron said to Hermione, gesturing towards the exit.

Hermione followed him out the door. "Ron, where are we going?" she asked.

"To Moaning Myrtle's toilets."

"What— Why?" Hermione asked, thoroughly confused. She didn't actually expect Ron to respond to her question about destroying the Horcruxes…

"Remember Gryffindor's sword and how I destroyed the locket with it?" Ron asked hurriedly. Hermione remembered that night well; she remembered Ron coming back to them, she remembered him walking into the tent, she remembered punching him. Hermione simply nodded. "It only worked because the sword was impregnated with Basilisk blood, which is poisonous. What if we—"

Hermione understood. "Went directly to the source?" she interjected, a smile appearing on her face.

"Exactly," Ron said. Hermione couldn't help it; without a word she hugged Ron as tightly as she could.

"You're a genius, you know that?" she asked thickly. She ran ahead of him, leaving him alone with his bewildered expression. _The whole time, the answer was beneath our feet the whole time, _Hermione thought, a dazed look in her eyes. _And he found it._

As soon as the two of them reached the girls' bathroom, reality hit them again. "Wait, Ron, how are we going to get the door open?" Hermione asked, remembering that she had never been to the Chamber of Secrets, hope draining from her face.

"Hold on, I think I might be able to…" Ron trailed off. A rather strangled sounding snarl escaped his lips and the sinks spread apart to let them through. Hermione's mouth opened wide in surprise. "Go ahead," Ron said, pointing. Hermione looked at him doubtfully, clearly unwilling to jump into a black pit with no idea as to what it led to. "It's a soft landing." Hermione pushed aside her doubts and jumped, letting the blackness envelop her.

Hermione felt the pipes around her, slimy and sticky. She didn't really want to look at them, so she closed her eyes. Within a few moments, she fell with a thud and she realized that she had reached the bottom. She opened her eyes and tried to get up without looking at the floor. She couldn't resist the temptation though, and she caught sight of a crushed mouse skeleton. A little cry escaped her, though she quickly stifled it with a muck covered hand. She shook her head in disgust and attempted to get up again. Just as she was bringing her left leg up, something crashed into her.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, his voice muffled against the ground.

"No, it's the shedded skin of the Basilisk," Hermione said dryly. Ron immediately got up and wiped his hands on his robes.

"I'm sorry," he said, a little shamefacedly. He walked over to Hermione to help her up. "From what I remember, it's that way," he said, pointing towards what looked like the remnants of a stone wall.

"What's this?" Hermione asked as they passed through it.

"Oh, when Harry and Lockhart and me landed, we caused a sort of mini-avalanche," Ron said, smiling gruffly at the thought.

"Really?" Hermione asked. "How'd you get through it?"

"Actually, I was trapped back there with an _obliviated _Lockhart, and Harry was conveniently standing on the other side of the wall, so he went on."

"I see," Hermione said, struggling no to laugh. "How was that?"

"Torture," Ron groaned. Hermione laughed. "Oh wait, this is new…" Ron said, noticing a wall with a circle of snakes on it.

Hermione frowned. "Try what you said up there," she suggested. Ron imitated the sound he remembered as best as he could. The circle shaped door opened and Hermione and Ron stepped through.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, they saw the snake. It lay on the floor, its eyes stabbed out, and its body decaying.

"Let's get the fangs," Hermione said, running up to it. She pushed the snake's jaws apart and grasped one of its teeth, twisting it sharply. It came free. "Should I, or do you…" she gestured towards the cup that Ron was holding.

"Go ahead," Ron said, placing the cup on the ground, "seeing as you haven't had the pleasure yet." He stood back.

Hermione approached the cup with the fang. She knelt down and looked at it. She raised the fang to strike. Just as she was about to strike, a voice entered her head. _For such a clever girl, this is rather stupid, don't you think? _Hermione, surprised at the sudden intrusion, did nothing for a moment. She looked up at Ron, who made a stabbing motion. _Come now. We all know that the Dark Lord has all the answers. He can give everyone what they want. There's no need to be doing this. _Hermione smirked at the voice. It had no affect on her; she had something to do, and nothing would stop her from doing it. "My regards, Tom," she whispered as her hand came down.

The fang pierced the cup. Hermione couldn't fathom how, considering the fact that the cup was made out of pure gold. _It's magic, _she thought, smiling. Her smile vanished almost immediately though. A high pitched scream issued from the cup, filling the whole room. And then it stopped. Hermione heaved a sigh; she felt relieved for some reason, like some great hardship had been accomplished. She felt at ease, even though she knew that they were at the brink of a war. Somehow, in that instant, it didn't matter. She had killed part of Voldemort, and it felt good.

Hermione looked up at Ron, who smiled at her. She smiled back. Everything would turn out.

**A/N Review please! Danke. Bisous ~ the shattered star**


	5. Crabbe

**A/N Short chapter, I know! But enjoy; only two left after this one! I have a collection of one-shots planned, however, for all the other scenes relating to the Horcruxes that I've missed here, namely the deaths required to make the Horcruxes. In any case, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Plot is JKR's, thoughts are mine.**

As soon as the words left his lips, Crabbe was immensely proud of himself. He had remembered how to conjure fiend fire! If that didn't get him an O in Charms, he didn't know what would.

Crabbe contemplated for a few moments, trying to ignore the ruckus and confusion. That's usually what he did; he ignored things. Sometimes things just got too confusing, so Crabbe had to tune them out so he could think. He looked around at his beautiful fiends and smiled. For the first time, he was happy with something he had created. And all by himself too!

Crabbe decided that now was the time to stop thinking and start doing. He looked over to Malfoy to await his orders, but to his surprise, his best friend was no longer next to him. "Malfoy?" he called softly, not knowing what to do. But he didn't worry, because Malfoy had always told him not to worry. If Malfoy was out of sight, all Crabbe was to do was to sit tight and wait for him to come back. Crabbe sat down on the floor, not really bothered by the roaring creatures around him; he had created them, so obviously they wouldn't harm him. Crabbe thought he heard a door slam, but that was impossible, because Malfoy would never leave him behind. Malfoy always came back for him. So that's what he was doing. He was waiting.

_Might as well do something while waiting… _he thought, quite bored at this point. Also, he was starting to feel slightly warm. Crabbe decided to think; he didn't do it very often, as he didn't truly need to, but maybe now was the time. He thought about capturing Potter and giving him to the Dark Lord. Oh, he would be pleased with all of them! He would be happy and he surely would not torture them. Though Crabbe didn't really mind torture; he had been through it so much that he barely noticed it nowadays. Just as didn't notice the small fire-chimera sneaking up behind him.

Sometimes, Crabbe got bored of always having to live under Malfoy's rule. He knew it was extreme disrespect to even _think _such a thing, but he couldn't help it! It's not as if he didn't have thoughts of his own. After all, he was the one to start the fire, not Draco. It was just that sometime, Crabbe liked being on his own. He did like serving Malfoy and being his friend as well, but sometimes he felt like having a break. Sometimes it all became too much.

Then the chimera pounced. It attacked Crabbe with its fire-claws, which, along with tearing his flesh, burned him as well. Crabbe screamed and tried to fend for himself as best as he could. But unfortunately, the thing was so hot that he couldn't get a good grasp on the chimera's neck to pull it off of him. "Get off me!" he cried in most commanding tone. The chimera either didn't listen or did not understand.

Just before it pierced its fangs in Crabbe's throat, and just before the raging fire consumed him, Crabbe felt oddly at ease. He realized he was going to die, but somehow, everything was alright. Crabbe wished he could stay where he was forever, for, despite the pain, it was the nicest place he'd ever been. He felt content and at ease. He felt like he was home. He didn't know what was happening, but to be honest, he didn't really care. All that mattered was that he felt calm and relaxed and unworried. He felt like he had done something good. He felt like he had accomplished something.

But then the fangs ripped through Crabbe's flesh and there was fire, fire everywhere. Crabbe would have screamed if he could've. But the feeling of relief was the only thing he had at this point. He held on to the feeling for as long as he could.

**A/N Again, sorry for the lack of length. :D Review! Danke. Bisous ~ the shattered star**


	6. Voldemort

**A/N I know, I know, it's short again… I think it's best this way though. :D Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Plot belongs to JKR; the thoughts belong to me.**

This was it. This was his chance. To be perfectly honest, Voldemort was a little disappointed. He didn't even have to kill anyone else to get to Harry Potter. Instead, Potter had come to him. Perhaps it was better this way though; there was less chance of something going wrong. It was just him and Potter. And Potter was truly at his mercy.

Just before he uttered the words, Voldemort had a brief moment of hesitation; why had the boy come to him? Surely he never doubted the great Lord Voldemort's words… He couldn't fathom… Was the boy truly this noble? To give himself up in place of his friends? Voldemort smiled inwardly; the boy clearly hadn't thought this through. Did he suppose that this would be the end? Voldemort would never stop; he would live forever and he would rule the Wizarding World along with the Muggle World! He would make the world pure again; he would make it how it should be! Potter was an imbecile to think that he could get in the way.

Voldemort shot down all his doubts; all that mattered was that Potter was here now. If there were any unforeseen consequences, let them come! After Potter died, there would be nothing in his way. Voldemort could almost taste it; freedom. The one thing that stopped him from completing his goal would soon be eliminated there was nothing complicated about it. No, surely he was over thinking. Everything was there in front of him; all Voldemort had to do was to reach out his fingers and grasp it.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _he shouted, his voice filling the forest. The boy crumpled to the ground. Birds flew from their nests, afraid of the noise that had erupted from beneath them. Voldemort was just about to smile when he felt it. Something he hadn't felt in quite some time. Pain. He felt pain. Tom's eyes opened wide in shock; what was this? There were two things right now, only two. There was pain. And there was relief. Relief? Tom could not fathom why he would be feeling relief. Because the boy was dead? That must be it. But as for the pain… Tom had no idea what was going on. Pain was something that weak people felt, not him!

Tom felt like he was rising out of his body and leaving the world. He was thoroughly disoriented at this point. All he could feel was the pain; it was ripping straight through him, killing all sane thought. Tom felt like he didn't have any control over what he was doing; he couldn't even tell if he was screaming or not.

Was it true then? Was the Potter boy a Horcrux as well? Had Tom plotted his own downfall? Had he played right into Fate's hands? Tom had no idea; all he could do was guess. But really, what other possibility was there? This was the only plausible option.

Suddenly, Tom felt himself back in his body. He was back where he belonged, with his faithful Death Eaters.

"My Lord?" one asked.

Voldemort quickly brushed him off. _I don't know… _he thought in response to the un-asked question.

**A/N Good? Bad? I've never tried writing Voldemort before; how was this? Review! Danke. Bisous ~ the shattered star**


	7. Neville

**A/N Yet again, quite short, but as I mentioned before, I think it's best this way. I hope you enjoy this last installment of **_**Horcruxes.**_

**Disclaimer: The thoughts and some characterizations belong to me, but everything else is property of Ms. Rowling. Direct quotes come from **_**Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows **_**page 732.**

It was strange; as soon as the body bind curse was thrust upon him, Neville did not panic. He simply stood still and thought furiously. Not that he could do much else.

"Neville here is going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," Voldemort said in his silky, snake-like voice. Now Neville started to get concerned. What was Voldemort planning to do to him?

Then he felt it. There were flames dancing on the Sorting Hat. His head was on fire! Neville felt an intense searing pain for an instant, but it soon died away. It was a strange sensation, to feel flames on one's head but not feel the pain associated with them. If he could have, Neville would have squinted his eyes in confusion.

Then, several things happened that Neville did not expect. An army of centaurs came galloping out of the forest and started shooting arrows at the assembled Death Eaters, who were quite perplexed. An enormous giant came stumbling out of the forest yelling "HAGGER!" The centaurs seemed to be aiding him by shooting yet more arrows at Voldemort's giants. Neville was thoroughly confused at this point; what exactly was going on? And was Harry really dead?

Suddenly, Neville felt the body bind curse fall off him, though he did not know why. As for as he could tell, no one had uttered the counter-curse. But it didn't really matter; all that mattered was that he could move now. He got up and ripped the flaming hat off his head, grasping the sword it contained. He felt a brief sense of pride; he was a true Gryffindor! He remembered Harry telling him how _he _had pulled the sword out of the hat in the Chamber of Secrets; how fitting that he should do the same five years later.

In one fluid motion, Neville cut the head off the snake that was at Voldemort's side. Blood gushed out of the wound, soaking the ground around it. The snake died almost instantly, but Neville could have sworn that he heard a scream issue from him. Neville felt a strange sense of relief; he had completed the task Harry had appointed to him. He felt like he could conquer anything. But unfortunately, the feeling did not last. Voldemort seemed to be speechless for moment, but then everything started moving and there was a great flurry of noise.

Neville turned to be faced by a Death Eater. He started dueling with him and quickly disposed of him. Neville smiled triumphantly again. Strange, that after his friend had died he was smiling. A normal person would be crying… Perhaps it was simply because he had done something to help defeat Voldemort. Perhaps it was because he had finally found his courage. Perhaps it was because for some reason he felt like the snake had a lot to do with… Well, everything. He felt as though some puzzle had been completed, though he didn't know why.

Neville had little time to think, as he was mostly occupied with disposing of as many Death Eaters as he could. He wished Harry could have seen him. But now was not the time to grieve. Now was the time to fight.

Neville watched the people around him break into small groups; even some House Elves had decided to join the fray. It was in this moment that Neville thought that battle could be beautiful.

**A/N That was my first attempt at writing Neville as well. :D Some reviews would be much appreciated. And hence, **_**Horcruxes**_** comes to an end. Thanks to all of you who stuck with it the whole way! Review****, **_**s'il vous plait! **_**Merci. Bisous**** ~ the shattered star**


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